Rustic Hearts

Present

As I step off the plane into the hustle and bustle of LAX Airport, anxiety kicks in. This is real. I am doing this. I left everything and everyone behind to begin again three thousand miles away from home.

I follow the horde of rushing travelers through the packed airport and into a surprisingly empty restroom. I look in the mirror at the weary face staring back at me. My chestnut eyes are slightly bloodshot, and my long, dark locks are a tangled mess from sleeping over half the flight from JFK. I splash some cool water on my face and run my fingers through my unruly hair. I pinch my cheeks and add a quick swipe of gloss across my lips. I take one last moment to gather myself. It’s as ready as I am going to get.

I give myself a pep talk as I walk down to baggage claim to collect my luggage. “You can do this. You are Brie Masters. You are a single girl from the big city, here to experience life outside of your hometown bubble while finishing your degree.” I work hard to convince myself as I grab my bags from the belt and head out into the warm California sun.

I take a deep breath to calm myself. Calm is something I haven’t felt in a very long time. I am not exactly sure what Los Angeles has to offer a broken soul like me, but it has to be better than what I walked away from. It just has to be. Starting over is not something I thought I would be doing at twenty-two years old, but here I am. I have lived a thousand lifetimes in those twenty-two years, and I have cried over the past long enough. Time to chase—and hopefully catch—a few new dreams. So, I gather myself and walk into my future.

“Jeez, Brie, how did you manage to pack your life into two suitcases? I don’t think I have ever known a girl to travel on vacation this light, much less move across the country.”

With an em on the name I now choose to be called, my cousin, Daniel, ribs me as he lifts all the belongings I cared to carry with me into this new adventure into the bed of his pickup truck.

“I told you, I am taking this moving-on thing very seriously. New everything. New name. New home. New friends. Even new clothes.”

So far, I am happy with my decision to move west and reco

Daniel and I kept in touch through the years as much as possible. Sending each other birthday cards every year and placing the occasional telephone call when we were younger and seeing each other when he came to visit his mom, my mother’s older sister, in the summers. Once we were old enough for social media accounts though, it was like he had never left. That is the thing about sites like Instagram and Twitter; you feel like you are actively participating in the lives of people you haven’t set your eyes on in ten or more years. It is the best and the worst thing about social media. Disco

It felt good to be in the same space as him now. He has grown into a handsome man, tall and broad-shouldered, like his dad. His dark hair is a little wild, and he still has the scar that runs through his left eyebrow from when he fell from the tire swing in my backyard when we were about six years old. He is sporting a five-o’clock shadow; actually, it looks more like a seven-o’clock shadow at this point. And, of course, he has a smile that could blind you, courtesy of his dad. He is all grown up and an aspiring musician, still living at home in his dad’s pool house in Beverly Hills while he lives his dream. He is a talented guitar player and singer-songwriter. I just know he is going to be famous one day. I wanted freedom and a fresh start, but I longed for a familiar face that wasn’t vetted to the past in a way that it would keep popping up on me. Daniel is that face.

“You have certainly come to the right place. A lot of miles between here and New York. They are two completely different worlds, but don’t worry; I am sure you are going to fit right in. Dawn and Kelsey have already gotten your room ready, and they are excited to officially meet you.”

Dawn Martin is Daniel’s current girlfriend and his stepsister, Kelsey Green’s, best friend and roommate. Uncle Matt married Kelsey’s mom when Daniel and Kelsey were already temperamental teenagers, so their relationship was strained from the begi

The girls’ former roommate, Tonya, just vacated her room and moved out on her own. That left them with a room for rent and hopefully room in their i

Daniel told me all about the two—the good, bad, and ugly—and I feel like I already know them. My favorite part about them is the ugly. I know that sounds insane, but maybe my ugly won’t seem so bad next to theirs. I guess we all carry a bit of it with us, but I am here to try to shed mine for good.

We pull up to a gorgeous stucco building in Santa Monica about thirty minutes later. It is a well-maintained place with a quaint courtyard and gated parking. It is close to the beach and the Third Street Promenade and definitely something I would never have been able to afford on my own, but with my savings and the money Una tucked into my hand as I left, I should, hopefully, be able to cover one-third of the cost until I can find a decent-paying job.

Enrolling in classes is my first order of business though. I graduated high school a few months early and then took time off to spend a couple of years in Paris with my mom’s younger sister, Aunt Mitzi. It was a glorious time in my life. Paris is a dream, and Aunt Mitzi is one of my favorite people on the planet. She took a heartbroken teen in and showed her a whole new world full of culture, food, fashion, and excitement that only Paris could provide.

I started taking classes at NYU the semester following my return to New York, but a little more than a year in was when everything in my life went sideways. Looking back, I probably should have stayed in France and gone to university. I loved it there, but something—or better yet, someone—kept calling me back home. Him. No, he is not allowed here. No thoughts of him in my new life.

Daniel parks the truck and hops out. I gather my purse and phone and open the door. A wonderful aroma of salt and sea envelops me, and I instantly love it here. Fresh air. Fresh start.

“Apartment number is three-B, and the girls are waiting for you. Go on up and say hi, and I’ll grab your things and be up in a minute,” Daniel instructs me as he types away on his phone.